The Ice Queen
by The Denominator
Summary: In the quiet town of Arendelle, nobody knows much about Elsa... except for Anna. Elsa prefers it that way. The less everyone knows, the better. If she could, she would rather keep Anna out, for her own good. But Anna, like love and snowstorms, is a force of nature. [AU] [Elsa x Anna] [Elsanna] [Yuri/Femslash] [Not incest/icest]
1. Winter Chapter 1: The Queen of Arendelle

**Disclaimer: The characters featured in this story belong to Disney.** **I do not own them or any part of "Frozen". I do not own any of the other licensed media or material that is referenced throughout this fanfiction. The cover image is artwork by Brittney Lee for Barbara Jean Hicks' _A Sister More Like Me _(2013).  
**

* * *

_"Why won't you tell me what's wrong? I thought we were getting close again, I thought–I thought," Anna said, stepping closer._

_"You should leave me alone. It's impossible."_

_"Wait, what are you talking about? What's wrong with you, Elsa? Why can't we be friends?"_

_"Because!"_

_There was sudden movement. Anna felt hands on either side of her face. Cold. Then lips against her own. Warm. Stunned, it took her a few seconds to realise what was happening. Before Anna could do anything, Elsa broke the kiss._

_"Now you know," Elsa whispered, letting go of her.  
_

* * *

Arendelle was a small town in every sense of the word. Its inhabitants, though big of heart, were simple people. They were the sort who'd invite their neighbours over for eggnog, the type of folk who would go to the grocery and exchange a happy "How are you" or four or more with the other shoppers. The townspeople of Arendelle wouldn't hesitate for a moment to reprimand a schoolboy for not looking both ways before crossing the street and in that same moment, press a piece of candy in his hand (if they had some) and send him on his way. They were warm, loving and friendly. But they were not without their faults.

If you weren't a regular in church, the Arendelle ladies were likely to tsk in disapproval. If you didn't visit the pubs on the weekend, the Arendelle men were likely to feel uncomfortable. There were things they considered good, proper and the norm. Anyone who did something different, well, who would know what they would do? Nobody they knew ever seemed out of place or odd or strange. Except for the mayor's daughter.

_Former_ mayor. The townsfolk chalked up her reclusiveness to the poor dear being orphaned at such an important time in her life. After all, losing both a mother and father to a car accident at fifteen? The story was nothing short of tragic to them. Many people would lower their head with respect or have kind smiles to give the girl, if only she would ever be there to accept them.

How they wanted to help her! They felt a certain kind of loyalty toward the girl and her deceased family. After all, the very town which they called home got its namesake from her ancestors, the first family to settle on the land. The family had gained its wealth by setting up a strategic trading post for other larger towns. Business had blossomed and more and more people came to the Arendelles' Arendelle to live. Yet things tended to change as they were wont to do as the years passed by. Most of the family moved out and headed to bigger towns, cities or even across the sea. After generations of migration, eventually all that was left of the original Arendelles was a son. What a good boy he was, well-liked and kind. He had only his family's manor, passed on from Arendelle to Arendelle, but he used his popularity, benevolence and political wit to become one of the most efficient mayors the town had ever had in decades. It was very easy to love the man, his dear wife and their darling little daughter. But everything changed after the accident. Perhaps this was why the girl was the way she was.

But there were whispers, some often lost to the wind, that the girl was estranged even _before_ that. After all, didn't the mayor and his wife remove her from school a year before? Upon her parents' death, guardianship fell onto an old married couple of neither high education nor esteem. They were relics attached to the estate: Kai the groundsman and Gerda the housekeeper. Nobody seemed able to contact a distant aunt or uncle to come care for the girl. Kai and Gerda didn't press the issue of her return to school after the incident. Despite urging from various teachers, the girl refused to re-enter the school system, choosing to remain privately tutored. Even from these tutors, people got very little information about the girl. Any attempt to engage in conversation outside of the syllabus was met with silence. The pay was good; it seemed the family had money enough to support the girl's education.

Curious mothers would sometimes ask their sons and daughters if they ever spoke to her, if she ever went about town, to the cinemas or burger joints. But nobody ever had a word to say about her. She was a mystery to them. There were only two places she visited: the public graveyard and the library. One was a trip she made once a year, the other, once a month. For a while, some boys and girls, no doubt pressured by their parents, would attempt to make conversation with her in the precious few minutes she stood outside the library waiting for Kai to bring the car around. Every one of them reported back that the girl did nothing but utter a word out of politeness, and then said nothing more.

"She's a regular ice queen," one of them said, and the name seemed to stick.

Some folks tried to get information from that Kai and Gerda, but they, like the girl, had nothing to say. They stuck to their charge of watching over the estate until she became eighteen and of age to fully inherit her family's property and finances. The pair never divulged a piece of information about the girl outside of "She's studying very hard" or "She's quite well". If anything, following the death of the Arendelles, Kai and Gerda seemed to frequent the town less and less, preferring to stay in the manor.

The people of Arendelle sometimes talked but then they would go on with their lives, busying with this or that or finding other topics that would pass for an evening's gossip. Besides, maybe it was best to leave that poor girl alone ("She's had a rough life, she's quiet, let her be, she'll warm up on her own eventually"). And so, time went on without the happy townspeople of Arendelle bothering or bothering about Elsa.

* * *

The Arendelle Manor, though small compared to the ones found in magazines about grand houses or mansions, was still quite lovely. The grey shingled roof showed its age and the dull cream paint on the columns revealed that little care was given to the estate, but its stateliness could not be questioned, and its isolation from the rest of the town gave it a certain allure. The manor was perched atop a hill so that anyone looking out from the second storey would be able to see the entire town. Surrounding the estate was tall black-iron fencing set on a cobblestone base. Only a dedicated trespasser or burglar would attempt to climb over its spearheaded tops. Visible from the front, it seemed the fence worked its way around the manor until the western and eastern sides met at the front gates. Leading from the gates to the manor was a well-kept driveway. There were clear signs that the foliage around the estate was still well-maintained, though it seemed any major work that needed to be done to the manor had been forgone.

While the front seemed almost imposing, the back of the estate was rather inviting. Those ever given the chance to visit the manor could attest to the beauty of the grassy slope leading to a lake below and after that, the woods. During colder winters, the mayor would leave the front gates open and invite the townspeople to come skate when the lake froze over. Of course, it had been years since the Arendelle estate had any company. There'd be no ice skating, no more fishing, no couples sneaking off to the woods to share a quick kiss, no infatuated girls plucking flowers in summer or boys throwing snowballs during winter, no loud little children tumbling down the hillside or old ladies having picnics by the lakeside. Everything had ended with the accident. There was no way into the grounds.

"Except for right here," said Anna, on her knees and digging through the snow around the fence's grillwork. After a minute of exertion, she found what she had been looking for: a broken part of the cobblestone base. There was evidence of a hole big enough for a medium-built man to wiggle through, though not without some effort. The deep snow seemed have blocked up most of it.

"I don't know how I feel about trying to fit through there," Kristoff said, looking down at his broad body. He pointed to the iron above the hole, "And I especially don't know how I feel about hitting my head on this thing. What about my snowboard?"

"Just keep low. If you help me dig this snow out, you'll fit easy. Just suck it in a little. And that thing? It's a flat piece of wood," she said, pointing to the snowboard he was holding as though it were a baby.

"It's a Burton! You have no idea how much allowance I had to save to buy this!" he responded, indignant and almost offended by her obliviousness. "I'm not going to let it get scuffed up with you trying to force it through there."

Anna rolled her eyes.

"It'll fit. Just help me clear the snow. Come on, we don't want to lose sunlight."

"Are you sure this is a good idea? I mean, what if someone catches us? Haven't your parents ever told you not to go breaking and entering?" he asked, propping the board up against the fencing.

"Kristoff, trust me, nobody will know," Anna assured him. She stood up again, dusted the snow off her clothes, and pointed to the manor. "Look at the place. What do you see?"

He contemplated for a moment, then replied drily, "A place with a lot of windows that an angry homeowner can point their shotgun through and pretend it's duck season."

"Thank goodness it's wabbit season, then. Look at the windows again," Anna huffed, her warm breath condensing in the cold air.

Sure enough, the boy observed that nearly all were either boarded up or had thick curtains behind them. There was one bare window near the front, but no light came from it. The place nearly looked abandoned.

Anna dropped to her knees again and started shovelling the snow. Kristoff followed, scooping the snow away much in sync with Anna's motions. In the few months that he'd known the girl, he knew when to give up and just go with it.

"Unless they have X-Ray vision, nobody is seeing us. Besides, there's no car in the driveway, so nobody's here," she explained. Suddenly, she furrowed her eyebrows. "Well, except maybe _her_."

"Her?"

"Elsa Arendelle," Anna breathed, scraping more handfuls of ice away.

"Who is that? Does she go to our school?"

"No."

"Elsa… Arendelle… Wait!" Kristoff exclaimed, his expression one of growing realisation.

Anna made a face. She was fairly certain she knew what he thinking. It was all anybody at their high school thought anyway.

"This is the lair of an evil snow witch!" he exaggerated in spooky voice.

"Don't call her that."

"I heard people talking about it before, but I didn't take it seriously. So then it is true! I hear she turns everything she touches into frost."

"Don't make fun of her!" Anna said, tossing a handful of snow at Kristoff's face.

"All right, all right – no need to be so defensive!" he spluttered. "It's a joke. What's up with you? Your face is turning red."

"Look, I just don't want to talk about this, okay?"

"Uh…"

"Just drop it, Kristoff. Now do you want to check out this slope or not?"

With that, Kristoff and Anna continued their digging, with Anna being a little more aggressive, he noticed. He was hopeful that he didn't piss her off entirely. After all, she was the only friend he'd made since his family moved here. It was a bit of an adjustment settling into a place during the summer, but once it started snowing, he felt at home again. If this promised hillside was anything worth skating down, he'd bring Sven along for a turn. The dog did love the snow as much as he did, surprisingly.

After a few more minutes of digging, their handfuls started coming up with flecks of dirt. They reached the ground. Anna was right – it was big enough for him to fit through.

"What's with this hole anyway? You'd think they'd fix it," Kristoff wondered aloud. "I mean, they must be loaded."

"I'll go through first."

* * *

Elsa rubbed her eyes. This was the fifth book she'd started for the day, but her interest just wasn't holding. She closed it in defeat, piling it on the neat stack of the other leisurely failures.

Bored, she decided to check the window to see if Kai and Gerda were any closer to returning. Over the years, she had learned how to calculate (based on how slowly Kai drove and the distance between the base of the hill and the top where the manor was situated) how quickly it would take them to pull up to the front gates depending on their visible location. If they passed the tree stump, it would take 15 seconds. If they were at the base of the hill and were turning off the main road, it would take 58 seconds. She could estimate based on the kind of weather too when to give or take the seconds (cold and wet, slower, hot and humid, faster). If there was one thing Kai was, it was that he was absolutely consistent with his driving.

They had made a run to the town to get some more groceries, and Elsa found herself alone as she often did. Her books were good company when she was able to sink into one and find somewhere far away to visit or some new theory to learn about. She couldn't decide if she liked fiction or non-fiction better; each offered her something the other didn't. Encyclopaedias were endlessly informative, and she loved nothing more than picking a letter and pouring over every piece of information she could find about everything "L" or "Q". But then fiction taught her about the world in ways non-fiction couldn't. She learned about people and personalities, ironies in life, the same-old, same-old, and ways to express things she never even felt before.

A month ago, she had stumbled across a single copy of a book about two girls from New Zealand who were in love. Elsa knew that it was extremely rare that such a book could be found in the library but finding it made her heart race. Touching it caused her hands to shake. She didn't borrow it. She couldn't borrow it. These kinds of books were the ones she had to read in the library, trying to take in as much of it as she could before Kai's scheduled arrival to carry her back home. Since she only visited the library monthly, she'd have to leave right wherever she stopped, and hope to the heavens that when she returned a month later, it'd still be there, waiting for her to pour over its pages in secret. She would always remember right where she had finished the last time. Once or twice, she was filled with absolute dread or panic when she would arrive at the library, make a beeline to the sacred shelf, and find the book missing. Who would borrow it? Who else would read something like this? Were there people… no, there couldn't be. And shame on them for borrowing it and letting the librarian know what kinds of books they were reading. These things were meant to be concealed.

Elsa had ten days to go until her next visit. She had just finished reading of a physical moment shared between the two girls in the book. Needless to say, it had her face flushed when reading it. Her mind kept wandering to the words, to the exact font of their intimacy. It stirred something inside of her, and she felt scared because it had felt… good.

Shaking her thoughts from fiction, she looked through the window only to see two people by the front gates. One was standing, holding a snowboard while talking to a bended figure that appeared to be tossing handfuls of snow behind them.

_What are those two doing?_

She wasn't unused to people showing up at her front gates, but they normally came to look at the manor and hang around a bit. Sometimes couples came to take photographs of it. But it seemed that her home had gotten the reputation of being haunted, as she had in the past seen young boys come in groups and then run off leaving the often slower, more frightened ones stumbling behind them trying to get away from the Arendelle Manor and whatever horrors awaited inside.

It wasn't until the second figure stood up that Elsa realised who it was. From afar, there was no mistaking her. Elsa's heart started pounding in the same way it did whenever she found one of those rare books. It started pounding in the same way it did three years ago whenever she was around the redheaded girl now standing in front her home.

_Anna_.


	2. Winter Chapter 2: Homebound

**A.N. The book Elsa refers to is a YA novel called _Dare Truth or Promise _by Paula Boock.  
**

**Thank you to all who have read and to those who have reviewed and to all who are following.  
**

* * *

The attic was Elsa's favourite room.

There were other better, more impressive ones perhaps, like the dining room. Furnished and fitted to host twenty people easily, its fixtures in gorgeous mahogany and brass, it was the most attractive room in the manor. Elsa knew it was her mother's favourite. Her mother loved nothing more than to host and to have the halls filled with happy voices. It helped that her father had a lot of acquaintances due to his position. Growing up was full of memories of delicious roasts, buttery potatoes and creamy bisques being enjoyed by anyone seated at the long table. If Elsa tried closing her eyes, she could hear the echo of spoons and knives and forks clashing, lively conversation and the sound of Bach filtering into the dining room from the stereo system in the entertainment room. Elsa remembered being a girl and tailing behind her mother's skirts, paying close attention to which cutlery was placed where around the plates. Her mother would quiz her about each guest that was coming, to see if she could remember who the man with the walrus-y moustache was (Dr. Schwarz!) or who was the lady with the mole on her chin (Mrs. Miller!). Elsa had liked this game a lot; she did her best to remember every single person who came to their home. Her mother never seemed to forget a name, so she did not want to either. The long dinner table now hosted only three diners (on the chance that Elsa did decide to join Gerda and Kai for a meal).

Then there was her father's study, another prime candidate for the best room in the manor. The shelves were full of countless books older than some of the senior citizens of Arendelle. Others were much, much older. There were even worn tomes in Norwegian which Elsa was informed was handed down from the first Arendelles to the current ones. The study had her father's desk, a sturdy oaken thing which his own father had used. Here Elsa knew he spent most of his time, examining some ledger or letter, writing to this one and that one, drafting ideas to be built into realities. Being the mayor, he felt it only right to get to know the people of the town his family had long neighboured. After all, if in the past an Arendelle paved the way for this town to become a home to those wanting a life or living, he believed it his duty to continue said legacy. Elsa knew this, she often listened to her father and mother talk and sometimes he would tell her himself that here is where this family made their name. This was their home. Arendelle was _home_. Not just the walls and halls of the manor, but the earth on which it stood, the streets where people would bustle on a busy Saturday, the rain that would drizzle on a grey evening, and the trees that stood longer than most legs ever had – all of it was hers. All of it was home, and she was to love it and take care of it as it would love and take care of her.

He would tell her these things in between work, on the days that he would let Elsa pull up a chair by his desk. While he poured over policies, she would practice her penmanship. They would talk, and he would teach. If he wasn't shuffling papers in the study, her father could be found buried in a novel. Elsa wanted to be just as smart and certain. She would read when he did. He replied to all the letters he ever got, and Elsa had hoped to have enough words someday to reply to every letter she got as well. But the study was one of the places Elsa had stopped visiting as much, frequenting it only when her tutors visited.

In spite of those two rooms being perhaps the best in Arendelle Manor, Elsa still preferred the attic. All the old things were covered up. Everything else in the house was maintained and on display; the place was a museum. Gerda made sure every day to do the dusting, sweeping, mopping, washing, polishing… The manor almost would look lived in if it wasn't for the absolute stillness. But the attic was different. Everything up here was blanketed with snow-white sheets. Here she did not have old family paintings of Arendelles past staring blankly at her, there were no chairs with grooves set into them from years of resting bottoms, and there was nary a picture frame, wardrobe, curtain, or candlestick holder up here that would remind her of long ago. The only things that weren't covered were the fairy lights strung along the ceiling. Her father had put them there at her behest while he was alive, and she hadn't turned them on in ages. She wasn't sure they even worked any more. She couldn't get them down herself and she wouldn't ask Kai with his bad knee to climb up and take them down, and so those remained. Up in the attic, she had only herself, and everything that reminded her that she was an Arendelle was buried under white.

Elsa was aware that Kai and Gerda knew of her so-called hideout (Kai, for sometimes when she'd look at him tending to the lawn, he'd glance upwards and then look away, going back to raking. Gerda, as the attic was regularly dusted and swept even though Elsa had never once seen the woman up there before). Gerda prided herself on that sort of housekeeping - the kind where you'd never know that someone had been there before or after you to tidy things. Elsa herself did not care for mess and was grateful for the care that her guardians continued to give to the Arendelles and their things. There were no two better people to take responsibility for her. The family had trusted them through and through. Elsa knew she came into this world crying in the arms of a young couple of which the father himself came into the world crying for a dead mother, and instead, was comforted and loved by a housekeeper. Her father's fondness for Gerda and her other half led him to have them move in permanently when his own father passed on. As heir to the estate, he did as he pleased and the things that pleased him were often generous and kind. Elsa could not imagine life without the old couple. She never had the chance to meet her grandparents, but she suspected what she had with Gerda and Kai was what it may have been like. Elsa's memories of childhood were filled with scenes of having her hair gently brushed and neatly plaited by her mother, but having Gerda straighten the sashes on her dresses, of getting the latest volume of her favourite book series from her father and the prettiest hydrangeas picked from the garden from Kai. The old couple never had children of their own, but Elsa realised they had been raising children all of their lives.

She felt badly for her distance the last couple of years, but she knew they would not be able to understand what was going on or how she was feeling. But they loved her enough to let her be, and loved her even more not to let her be completely alone. They were all she had, she knew, but she could never willingly let them in or up here to the attic.

Her parents were the ones to take her up for the first time. Her father had told her a story of when he was a teenager trying to woo her mother. He had promised to show her the most beautiful view in all of Arendelle, and so he had waited for the clearest night and brought her there to look through the rounded window. The little town was glinting and glowing below the hill and off-a-ways. Her mother would laugh and tease that she had actually fallen in love with the view instead of him. He had told Elsa that the attic could be her secret room if she wanted it – it was his as a boy. It was where he'd rummage through dusty chests, line up his toy soldiers on the window sill until they tumbled off or where he'd hide from Gerda when she wanted him to take his teaspoon of cod liver oil.

So Elsa made the attic hers. She brought stacks of books that couldn't fit in the library. She made sure to bring the ones she thought best or the ones she enjoyed re-reading most up there. By the window sat an old wide chest which she covered with her favourite purple cushion. She would sit and read comfortably for on a good day, nothing rivalled the natural sunlight that shone through the window. During rain, the heavy droplets sliding their way down the glass were snake-like, mesmerising. Elsa couldn't count how many hours she had spent looking out that window. At this age, she wondered if it added up to years. This was the view from which she'd see Kai trimming dead branches off of trees or Gerda chasing Marshmallow around to brush his long fur. It was from this very window that she'd see Anna bicycling up the hill to come and play, and it was the very same one through which she saw the glow of red tail-lights grow distant on the last night she saw her parents alive.

It was through this window that she was now seeing Anna and some blond fellow squeezing their way through a hole in the fence. Elsa hadn't been expecting to see Anna. She only ever saw Anna twice a year, and that was on her birthday and on Christmas Eve. That was to say, she literally only ever _saw_ Anna. She would watch from her window as the girl came peddling up to the front gates and slip a card into the mailbox and then ride the bike down the hill (half the time without her hands on the handles, the other half, with her feet off the peddles, and that one time where she tried standing as the bike rolled down the hill. Needless to say, that ride did not last particularly long nor did it end very well). Elsa hadn't spoken directly to Anna since she was fourteen. It was more than three years since she ended her friendship with the only person outside her family that she cared about. Elsa suddenly felt her stomach roil, remembering the reason why. Yet with Elsa's refusal to have Anna in her life, every year Anna would still visit Arendelle Manor to drop off these cards. Her persistence was admirable, and it always made Elsa want to cry when Gerda or Kai would bring in the mail.

Yet here Anna was, not on her birthday and certainly not on Christmas Eve, trying to sneak into her yard from the looks of it. Who was he Elsa wondered. Was this a boyfriend? The feeling in her stomach worsened. She did not think Anna would be the type of person to do something like that – to bring a… boyfriend to her house. If she was to gauge the situation, it looked like they were going to go snowboarding. After years of never stepping a foot into the estate, Anna would come now? And with this boy? Elsa followed their actions until it seemed they managed to get the snowboard through the hole. The big blond boy seemed to be cross, but Anna waved her arms about and pointed emphatically towards the side path leading to the back of the manor.

She didn't want to, but she had to. Elsa turned away from the window and started down the attic stairs.

* * *

"Here it is. Isn't it great?" Anna said proudly.

"It's so beautiful," Kristoff replied with genuine feeling.

Anna giggled at his expression. She swore she almost saw tears welling in his eyes.

"It's not home, but it'll do," he said finally, strapping his boots into the board's braces. He straightened his back, crossed his arms then puffed out his chest. He surveyed the lands around him and nodded in approval. Kristoff took a deep breath and then bent his knees.

"All right. Here I -"

Anna couldn't hold back the laugh. He was taking this all so seriously that it was very sweet.

"GO!"

He launched himself down the hillside. Kristoff's descent and manoeuvring was surprisingly very graceful. Anna knew he was a big lumbering type and his gait pretty much could be described as Hogwarts-bathroom-trollish. But on the icy powder, there was a surety in movement that she had never seen from his body before. His board made slinking S-shapes in the smooth surface. She saw him do a little spin trick and his landing was good enough for her to wish she had a sign with an "8.5" on it to hold up. His figure grew distant the further he went from her and the closer he got to the lake (that was, from what she could see, frozen).

Anna's smile faltered when an icy gust of wind hit her. She remembered something. The last time Elsa hung out with her. It was a winter night and they had snuck off to the lake. Elsa was going to teach her how to skate, but something had happened. Anna tried remembering and rationalising it for years and figured that that had to be that night where Elsa just stopped wanting to be her friend. It was a vague memory. After all, she didn't and couldn't recollect what had happened. She could recall going out onto the ice and then all she remembered was a chill so deep it felt like her bones were burning from the inside out. She had woken up in the hospital.

_"You fell through the ice. You're lucky you got out in time."_

The doctor's words reverberated with hazy recollection. Anna looked around her quickly as another gust of wind blew, stronger than the last. About twenty feet away, the Arendelle Manor stood lifeless.

_What am I thinking?_

Was Elsa just going to suddenly appear with a big smile on her face, asking to snowboard or to build snowmen? Those were childish things, she supposed, and maybe the older girl had totally outgrown her. It was an option Anna had considered. That perhaps the one year that separated the two in age truly meant something. It didn't really mean anything back then, when they were young girls meeting for the first time, Elsa shy but calm, Anna excited and impatient.

_"Anna, this is Elsa."_

That year meant nothing when Elsa had to start middle school and Anna was still in elementary.

_"It's okay, Anna. I'll tell you everything so you'll have an advantage when you start next year."_

Anna had been worried that Elsa was going to find new friends, friends her own age and she'd be all alone without her best friend. But Elsa put that fear to rest, for every day she would call Anna and Anna would rattle off for however long it took before her mother yelled at her to get off the phone and do her homework. Elsa would just listen and laugh or give Anna stories just as interesting about what she was learning and how different everything seemed to be now. The year that separated them didn't seem to matter either when she and Elsa were in middle school at the same time. If anything, it made them closer, as Elsa didn't seem to care much for the frivolity of conversation amongst her classmates (or as she had said simply, "Sometimes it feels like a whole lot of noise.") and it made Anna happy that Elsa would pick someone like _her_ to be friends with, especially since she did not think herself as smart or refined or beautiful.

Oh, and Elsa was beautiful indeed. Anna used to think the other girl's fair hair, pale skin and blue eyes made her look like a painting of a human rather than a real one. Elsa would be grateful for the compliments - Anna was never shy about blurting out how good she thought Elsa looked (the thought of her behaviour back then made her face burn red now) - but she would seem embarrassed by the praise. Anna noticed the reaction and tried to be less forward, but sometimes it was hard to keep thoughts in her head rather than spewing them out of her mouth.

So if age wasn't really a thing that had got in between them, what could it have been? Anna needed to know that there was something, anything that could be the reason why her best friend had shut her out completely. No matter how much she phoned or begged Kai and Gerda to let her see Elsa, the response was always the same.

"_Go away, Anna."_

She wasn't sure that coming here was a good idea. After all, sometimes you just had to give up after ringing someone's doorbell every day or shouting their name from the street. A finger got numb, a voice, sore.

But Kristoff had indirectly given her the push to come here. He had been complaining about how long he had gone without boarding. When it started snowing, he had looked so happy, but then he complained again how flat Arendelle was. That was when the idea came to her. She knew a place that could make him happy. After all, it was a place that used to make her pretty happy as well. It didn't take her very long to suggest it. She had actually just blurted it out - "I know somewhere we can go!" - and there was no backing down or away after that. Well, there was resistance when they actually got to the manor, but she knew if she had told Kristoff exactly where they were going, he'd have had to have been bribed and begged and Anna didn't have time really to think about doing either one of those things. If the adrenaline rush of her decision wore off, she herself might've given up. It was only on the way up the hill that she had something akin to brain whiplash for making such a stupid decision with no plan and no thinking whatsoever. She was nervous but excited too. She always had reason to go to Arendelle Manor, but now she had an excuse.

"Anna!" Kristoff bellowed from down the hill. She saw arms waving in the distance. She waved back but he just shouted her name again, the sound long and dull from its travel. She couldn't make out his expression from that far, but she saw him drop to the ground hurriedly, trying to get the snowboard clamps off his feet. The wind blew again icily, and she shivered a bit.

_What's up with him?_

"Anna."

Anna's heart froze. Her stomach fell right through. Unpleasant electricity rushed down her legs and arms to toes and fingertips. She let out a breath, puffy white in front of her. As though it remembered with great urgency that she needed to stay alive, her heart started beating again, loudly, unbearably. She reached up to tuck her braid behind her ear, the hair suddenly feeling heavy against her cheek. She turned around carefully.

"Elsa."


	3. Winter Chapter 3: Sweater

There were things that remained familiar. Anna recognised the same lightness in the eyes, the small smattering of freckles across the nose, the pink lips against an otherwise pale, smooth face. But Elsa wasn't entirely the same. Now Anna had to tilt her head slightly upwards to meet her eyes: Elsa had grown an inch or two. Anna herself was stuck at the same height she had been since fifteen (a fact that elicited groans every time she was reminded of it. Over the years she'd noticed the growth measurements carved into her bedroom's doorframe weren't going any higher). Other than her height, Elsa's hair was different too. She wasn't sure if it was now longer or shorter, for instead of the neat long braid Elsa had always worn (accompanied by a headband that belonged to the largest collection of headbands Anna had ever seen), the older girl now wore a bun. Her bangs (whose tips gave the impression that they were self-shorn by Elsa) were being swept to the side from the cold breeze blowing against the hillside. Anna could swear she saw the face of Mrs. Arendelle in Elsa's. She looked so much older, so much more refined and mature that Anna's nervousness worsened. Despite the familiarity she had with that face (she'd seen it on DVD recordings of their elementary school plays, plastered all over old photo albums, in memories, in bad dreams where she'd wake up in the morning with tears in her eyes, in good dreams where she'd wake just the same), it was almost foreign to her.

_Come on, come on, come on__—_say something!

"Elsa! I like your sweater!" Anna said, too loudly, too frantically, instantly wanting to slap herself in the face.

_Nice one, geez._

"Thanks," Elsa replied softly, her eyes not succeeding in meeting Anna's.

Anna wasn't lying about liking the sweater. That shade of blue always brought out of the best in Elsa's eyes. Anna could make out the pink flesh of Elsa's fingertips peeking out from the long sleeves. Elsa must have caught her looking, for she instantly crossed her arms, burying her fingers into the crease of her elbows.

_Keep talking, keep talking. She's finally here. She's here, and I have a chance, I finally have a chance. _

"You've gotten taller. I wish I was taller too, I dunno, I just can't seem to grow any more even though I drink milk all the time. I mean, you drink milk and you're bound to get taller, right? I guess they misreported that… I should write a blog about it, you know. 'Demystifying Milk' or something."

_Oh, I'm rambling, stop it, say something useful—meaningful—good. Enough with the milk._

"I guess you've been drinking a lot of milk."

_Jesus._

"I really do like that sweater. I mean, I know I said that before. I'm—I'm sorry, I just—"

_Come on, Anna. You've had everything planned out, wrote it all down, just say any one of those things, do it, you've been ready for years. You practiced on the way up the hill today, you know the words. You have the words. Just TALK._

Elsa put Anna out of her word vomiting misery by raising a hand in a gesture meant to tell Anna to slow down and give her a chance to speak (for which Anna was suddenly extremely grateful).

"Anna, you shouldn't be here."

One sentence uttered, and Anna was crushed. Maybe embarrassing herself with her endless plague of words would've been much better than getting what felt like stabbed in the chest with syllables. She smiled timidly at Elsa.

"I—I know I shouldn't and I'm really sorry I didn't ask your permission but you don't take any of my calls, you never see me and I just wanted a chance to see you, so I came. I don't know what I was thinking, I probably wasn't even thinking."

"No, I don't think you were," Elsa said quietly.

She met Anna's eyes and Anna felt suddenly aware of every inch of her skin.

"Elsa…"

Elsa looked at her intently, her voice changing, sounding a little provoked, "And who is that with you? Actually, I don't even want to know. I think… I think you should leave. It's getting colder, you shouldn't be out here. You shouldn't be here at all."

Anna felt her heart ache in a way she didn't think it could any more. This wasn't the reunion she was expecting, but what was she expecting anyway? For Elsa to suddenly change? Anna thought perhaps indeed so, for it was just as suddenly that her best friend _did _change from the girl she once knew her to be. Elsa was happy, warm, yet somehow still the calmest, coolest girl Anna had known. This girl—woman—in front of her might as well have been a complete stranger.

"Not until you tell me why you stopped talking to me. Not until you let me know what's hurting you. And don't pretend that you're fine. Nobody who's fine becomes a total loner."

"What does it matter, Anna? That's in the past now."

"I know I might seem borderline stalker-y right now, Elsa, but I can't just let it go so easily. I tried, trust me, I did, but I keep thinking over and over again what I did wrong or what I said or why you'd suddenly prefer that I wasn't around. Maybe I'm too stupid or too, I don't know, whatever. I spent so long wondering and wondering what it was. I just couldn't and I can't figure it out. So just tell me, Elsa. Say anything to me, just let me know. Do you hate me? Is that it?"

Words were tumbling out. They weren't exactly the ones Anna had planned on saying, but she couldn't stop them now. This, after all, was her chance.

"How could you think that?" Elsa said, anxiously. "That's ridiculous, Anna. I could never hate you. You've done nothing wrong."

Anna could tell she was being truthful.

"Then why are you ignoring my entire existence? Why are you forgetting that we used to be friends?"

Elsa uncrossed her arms and began rubbing her hands. She wasn't wearing any gloves. Anna was so taken with seeing Elsa and finally speaking to her that she didn't even realise that the older girl was actually not appropriately dressed to be out in the snow. No mittens, no hat, no scarf. She was wearing only the sweater and some pants. At least she had on proper snow boots.

"Elsa, you should get inside, it's too cold out to— "

"I'm fine. Look Anna, I have my reasons for doing what I did. Listen to me, please. Just go on and forget about all this. Be happy. You'll be so happy if you just forget about me."

"I can't do that, Elsa. I know everything got broken, but why won't you let me try to fix it?" Anna asked sadly.

Elsa's voice became gentle, and she gave Anna a joyless half-a-smile, "There's nothing to fix. Nothing for _you_ to fix, at least. Trust me when I say this was and is for your own good."

"My own what?"

Anna was almost offended.

_I'm not a kid, Elsa._

Keeping her voice steady, Anna plowed straight into a rebuttal, "What are you even talking about? For my 'own good'? You're sounding like a forty-year-old divorcee with a mortgage and one-point-five kids. You don't get to decide what's good for me or not, Elsa. That's not your responsibility. You always tried to be the big sister in our friendship, but you can't decide something like that without even consulting me about it."

"I didn't break any contracts, and I don't think I owe you an explanation."

"No you don't, but don't you even care enough to think I deserve one?

Elsa's expression had an unbearable sadness that Anna hadn't seen before. This was one of those unfamiliar things which Anna had to adjust to: seeing Elsa upset.

Anna spoke tenderly, tentatively, "I'm not angry, Elsa. I just want my friend back, that's all. I just want you to be happy. You've been up here all alone for so long and I just want to know that you're okay, that you could smile. You have such a pretty one. I mean you always covered it up, but I used to see it anyway and it was just like watching the sun smiling. Not the creepy Teletubby baby one, God, no, I mean—"

"Anna!"

Anna spun around, surprised at herself for only now hearing the crunching of ice beneath heavy boots. It was Kristoff, red in the face, panting heavily and staring at Elsa straight in the face.

"Anna—I was—trying to—get here—faster—"

He took a deep mouthful of air and breathed out slowly.

Anna made a face instantly.

_Oh crap._

Elsa's words from earlier rang through her head. She wasn't too happy about Kristoff being here. She wasn't too ecstatic about either one of them being there, actually.

"E-Elsa this is Kristoff. Kristoff, Elsa."

"Nice to—meet you," Kristoff panted. He clutched his side, clearly trying to ease a stitch from the sudden exertion he put himself through trying to run up the length of a hill buried in inches of snow. He extended his right hand to shake Elsa's but the other girl looked at him narrowly. He dropped his arm to his side. Anna heard his breathing ease into a regular pattern, and a hush fell over the group. Kristoff gave her a look that she understood to mean, "What the hell is going on?" Elsa was saying nothing. Anna nervously looked at Elsa, hoping that perhaps her pleas somehow managed to get through somehow. Instead, Elsa's face grew passive and she finally spoke.

"You're both trespassing."

"What!?" Anna nearly shouted.

"Unless you want me to call the police, you better go."

"Wait—"

"Understood!" Kristoff affirmed. "We'll be leaving. I'll just get my board and we'll get out of here. Sorry to bother you."

He tried taking Anna's arm, but she shook his hand away, not tearing her eyes off Elsa. The other girl was actively avoiding returning the eye contact. How could Elsa say something like that? She claimed to be looking out for Anna, but this was the exact opposite of that. If this were a test, it was surely a most cruel one. Anna wasn't sure how she was going to control the tears at this point, but she couldn't cry in front of them. So she swallowed it down, hard and painful, and repeated what she always told herself through the years of rejection.

_Love her through this._

"I'm not leaving here, Elsa. You might as well call the cops, I don't care."

"Uh, no, no no—Anna, let's just go, come on. Miss, we'll be leaving now. We're really very sorry."

"No, Kristoff. I can't go. Elsa, you have to be upfront with me. I won't run away any more from this or from you. I won't back down. You have to talk to me."

"Very well," Elsa said with finality.

She turned and started back to the manor. Without looking at them, she said, "You have about thirty seconds to leave this place. The gates are padlocked and I don't have a key. Fit yourselves through the hole like you did earlier."

_Elsa… _

When Elsa got to the back door, she opened it up and left the door ajar. Anna was confused.

_Does she want me to follow her?_

She took a step forward, but felt Kristoff pull her back.

"What are you—" she began, but he cut her off.

"Shush."

"What?" she asked, impatiently.

"Look," he whispered.

He pointed to the door, and instead of the Elsa in the doorway, there stood a large St. Bernard. Anna's eyes went wide. The last time she saw this guy, he was a pup, big enough to lift with one arm. Now he looked heavy-set and huge.

_Marshmallow._

"Is that dog going to—"

Kristoff didn't get chance to finish ask his question as the dog growled, low and deep.

"Oh shit," Kristoff muttered weakly.

With a loud woof, Marshmallow came bounding out of the door, heading towards their direction.

"RUN!"

The dog's deep barks echoed through the estate. Kristoff pulled Anna's arm hard and made a mad dash towards the front gates.

"Go, go, go!" he shouted.

Anna didn't have time to stop and think or argue. They got to the hole in the fence and Anna dropped quickly to the ground and crawled through the space. She felt Kristoff close behind her, pushing her quickly to get out. Marshmallow's barks were louder and closer. Anna scrambled to her feet and watched as half of Kristoff was out the hole and the other was being pounced upon by the dog. He was trying to pull off Kristoff's pants with his teeth.

"Get away! Anna, help me out!"

Anna, flustered, ran a couple feet away from Kristoff. She grabbed hold of the iron and climbed, slipping slightly on the cobblestone. Getting her footing, she stuck an arm through the fence and started waving wildly.

"Marshmallow!" she shouted, hoping the dog would respond to its name.

It was clearly well-trained, for it instantly let go of Kristoff's pants' leg and followed the direction of her voice. Free, Kristoff crawled through the rest of the hole and got to his feet.

"Let's go, let's go, let's go!"

"He's not—" Anna began to protest, aware that the dog wasn't going to kill them.

"We're not sticking around, come on!"

Marshmallow's angry barking resumed. He didn't like being tricked.

Anna looked up to the manor.

"Anna!"

Tearing her eyes away, she started running back down the hill with Kristoff. It may have been the adrenaline causing her to see things, but she could swear that from the topmost window, someone there watching them.

* * *

"Okay, what the fuck was that all about?" yelled Kristoff.

At the bottom of the hill, his family's pick-up was parked. Anna had recommended that they leave it down here instead of driving straight up to the manor. He yanked the keys out of his pocket angrily and opened the doors. Anna got in, feeling wearier than she'd ever been in her entire life. As soon as she got into the vehicle, she slumped down against the seat. Kristoff was ticked off, slamming the door shut as he got in.

"I nearly got eaten alive! My board is gone! I could've lost my pants, and I love these pants! You owe me big time for this, Anna. Spit it out. NOW. What's up with you and the Wicked Witch of the West?"

In the flurry of events, Anna didn't have time to process what a complete failure her mission was. Elsa's words came pouring back to her, and her eyes burned.

Kristoff's face softened immediately.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa—sorry, Anna. I didn't mean to be so rough. I'm sorry, hey, hey—I have other pants at home, I don't mind, I could've lost these."

The tears came. Anna laughed lightly, sniffling, wiping them away. She turned away and pressed her forehead against the door's window. Her breaths were making the glass foggy. Her face was feeling sticky from the salt stains and she rubbed her cheeks to get the feeling away.

"I'll get your board back, Kristoff. I promise. Pinkie swear."

"It's cool… I know you're good for it."

Kristoff started the engine and let it run, turning on the heat. Anna was glad he was being decent about everything. She could've lost another friend just in the span of fifteen minutes considering what had transpired. It was far from ideal.

_What's wrong with me?_

She had envisioned how things would've worked out. She'd have confronted Elsa, Elsa would open up and accept her and realise what a stinker she'd been, and then they'd catch up and it would've been like nothing even changed in the first place. Elsa would finally talk to her about her parents and maybe she'd get some answers as to why Elsa wanted to be alone for so long. Everything would've been fixed and it would've worked. At least in her fantasy of presumed events, it would have. She didn't think it could've gone any worse than it did.

_Kristoff could've lost his pants._

She conceded it could've been worse.

"So…" Kristoff broke the silence.

"So?"

"What's up?"

"Not my spirits, I don't think," Anna joked weakly.

She felt the vehicle lurch forward as Kristoff started driving.

"There's either a lot of bad blood or history between you and that one, isn't there?" he started.

Anna wasn't sure she was in the mood to even discuss this. She had failed to mention anything about Elsa to Kristoff during the time they had known one another. Perhaps that was the wrong move to make, but she didn't want to launch into a new friendship with the new guy telling him about what could be considered an obsessive refusal to let go of a dead relationship. It was bad enough that for months she had to deal with classmates constantly asking her what was up with Elsa, why she dropped out of school, why she wasn't visiting in town much anymore. Worse, when the Arendelles had passed away, all the parents seemed to think she was some authority on Elsa, prodding and probing her continually with questions until they accepted that Anna knew nothing.

_Maybe I should've told him everything from the start._

"I'm sorry, Kristoff," Anna mumbled.

"Hey, seatbelt," he said, popping his copy of _Early Venetian Lute Music_ into the CD player on the dashboard. Anna could never understand how someone like him could enjoy listening to this stuff.

She pulled the seatbelt on and sighed as he turned up the volume.

"Still not going to tell me about it?"

"Elsa and I used to be best friends," Anna explained, focusing on the road as he drove. "We met when we were little. Really little. My dad went to school with her dad. Elsa's father used to be the mayor of this town before he… Mr. and Mrs. Arendelle got into a car accident. They didn't live."

"Ah, I'm sorry to hear that… Was Elsa there?"

"No, she was at home. It was some dinner thing they were going to. It was raining that day. The newspaper said another car lost control and skid right into theirs. The impact… they didn't suffer, at least that's what we're told."

"How long ago was this?"

"I was fourteen, so three years."

"And Elsa just cut you out of her life… from the grief or something?" Kristoff asked slowly, as though he were trying his very best not to ask things insensitively.

Anna wanted to sink lower into her seat. The warmth in the pick-up didn't help much with making her feel better.

"No. It was even before that."

"Before that? What the hell happened?"

"I don't know. I mean, the last thing we ever did together was go out to the lake one night. I was thirteen then. We had a sleepover at her place. So we went out to ice-skate. Elsa didn't really want to go, but I know I forced her into it, since she could skate and I couldn't. She was going to teach me. I don't remember that night very clearly, all the details. I ended up falling through the ice."

"Seriously?"

"The ice wasn't frozen solid in some places. I ended up on a weak patch and fell right through. I know I ended up in the hospital for some time. It was kinda fun," Anna remembered, laughing a little as she recollected how much chocolate she got as Get Well presents from people.

"Fun nearly dying from hypothermia?"

"That's not what I meant," she said, shoving his shoulder lightly. "Anyway, I kept waiting for Elsa to come visit me and she never did. Her parents came, but not her. They sent a card she made for me, that was it. Elsa stopped coming to school after that. I tried calling her but every time, someone else would answer and say she didn't want to come to the phone. I tried visiting her, but they said she refused to come out of her room. Her parents died months after that. I tried over and over again to get Elsa to come out and talk to me, but she never did. I just stopped trying. It just didn't work."

They were finally turning into the town. The streets were grey-sludgy from the vehicles driving on whatever snow wasn't shovelled off, but everything still looked beautiful. Perhaps to counter the town's natural penchant to look grey and washed out, the citizens made sure to paint buildings in brighter colours. The effect was snow-globe levels of cute, Anna had to admit. People were busying about doing shopping: Christmas was a fortnight away. She already had her Christmas card made for Elsa. Now she was wondering if it made any sense to even drop it off.

"Until now."

"Huh?"

"You tried something today, didn't you?" Kristoff pointed out.

"Yeah, I guess I did. Turned out swell, huh?" Anna remarked bitterly.

"It really did," he answered earnestly.

Anna faced him, giving a quizzical look.

"What do you mean? That was a total disaster."

He frowned and shook his head, answering her, "Nah, I mean. You said before that you'd always go see her and she'd be holed up, right?"

"Yeah…?"

"Well?"

Anna's skin prickled. The ache in her chest felt lighter for she understood what Kristoff was trying to tell her.

_You got her to come out._


	4. Winter Chapter 4: Boyfriend

**A.N. Does anyone else think that the instrumental piece that plays at the end of Frozen feels like a punch right to the aorta?**

* * *

Kristoff's house always smelled like delicious baking and often sounded like a fish market. The combination of sensations made Anna surprisingly comfortable, despite the fact that the boy's rather large extended family were, to put lightly, a bit inappropriate.

"Why aren't you two dating again?" asked an aged uncle, folding down his newspaper.

An equally old aunt chimed in on cue, "Maybe they _are_ and they're just too shy to admit it!"

"Nobody's dating anybody!" Kristoff groaned loudly. "We're friends! Can't two people just be friends!?"

"Girls have cooties! Kristoff doesn' want cooties!" argued a young cousin, looking up from the collection of marbles he had pooled onto the floor.

"Girls don't have cooties! Boys are the yucky ones!" another little cousin retorted, throwing a stuffed bear at her offender. The boy ducked and started gathering his marbles into a little sack, crying out that he wasn't going to be "infected".

"I think it's lovely that you two are friends!" another aunt said, nodding her head in approval. "After all, the basis of a good relationship is a good friendship! You don't want to get married without being best friends first!"

"Nobody's getting married!" Kristoff grumbled, but his voice was being lost in the din of chattering aunts, uncles, cousins and the clanging, cooking and chopping being done in the kitchen by his mother Bulda and her team of the domestically-inclined getting dinner ready.

"What's wrong with ya, girly? Don't like the boy?" addressed another uncle to Anna.

"I—" Anna began, but he cut her off.

"I can't really blame ya, that dog-smell isn't all too appetising is it?" he responded, pointing to a shaggy brown dog wagging his tail happily as Kristoff petted him.

"Sven and I don't smell!" Kristoff argued, but he quickly brought his shirt sleeve up to his nose and took a whiff. "All that badly, I guess."

"I just don't feel that way about—" Anna tried to get in edgewise.

"It's because he has the manners of a donkey."

"Or that he always picking at that big nose of his!"

"Maybe it's because he eats with his hands all the time?"

Anna couldn't help but laugh. Being squashed between some plump aunts in the family's living room on a mushy sofa, sipping at a cup of cocoa (with, she sighed, marshmallows floating to the top) was not a bad way to pass an evening. It certainly beat doing nothing at home, and it was way more favourable than lying in bed for the rest of the day crying into her pillow grossly and pathetically.

"I can't wait till Christmas is over…" grumbled Kristoff.

"No you don't, cutie!" said an aunt sitting next to Anna. She got off the sofa and the change in weight caused Anna to plop lower. The aunt on the other side of her got up as well—it felt a bit like riding a cushiony wave. She had to hold on to her cocoa with both hands for it not to spill with the sudden movement. The swarm of relatives in the living room dropped whatever they were doing to shower Kristoff with hugs, kisses, hair ruffles and coos of affection. The goofy expression he got on his face seemed to contradict his earlier exasperation with them. Anna had to admit that the sight was nothing short of comically charming. Unlike Kristoff, the rest of the Bjorgmans were heavy-set and small in stature. They all had either ruddy-brownish or very dark hair which differed greatly from his "unmanly blondness" as one uncle had put it. He had revealed to her when she met his mother for the first time (rather offhandedly too, she might add) that he had been adopted when he was about eight years old. Ever since, he'd been taken in completely as one of their own. He was Bulda's only child, but he was like a son to every Bjorgman in the room.

From what Anna was told, their family reunion happened at a different residence across the country annually. This year was their turn, and so Bjorgmans (_Bjorgmen? _Anna wondered) from all over had come to spend Christmas. Apparently this wasn't even all of them. The remainder would arrive on Christmas Eve. Anna didn't know how much more people this house could take, but she supposed it was a good thing that they somehow managed.

It was nice, being infected with their good cheer and silliness. She had something warm to drink and something warmer to drink in. The affection the Bjorgmans had for one another could be described as perhaps suffocating, but Anna felt like she could finally breathe big gulps of air around these people. Here was a happy place, overflowing with family, with love crammed into every free space that some cousin wasn't hiding in, hanging off every full coat rack, bursting out of the kitchen with its home-cooked aromas, fighting to be heard over hearty laughter and that one grandpa's hacking cough. Immediately, she felt sad for Elsa.

_She's alone._

For as long as she had known the other girl, Elsa had always been the sort to be sought out. Without interjection or intervention, she was liable to remain contentedly by herself. After school, Anna would find her sitting with a book until she showed up with some doll or skipping rope to pull Elsa out of white pages and into yellow sun. Anna smiled, remembering fondly how much Elsa didn't care about what the older kids thought about her playing with a dirty-kneed girl who liked monkey bars and merry-go-rounds. Elsa wasn't as physically energetic as she was; she'd watch as Anna did something to dazzle her or make her laugh (and Anna winced remembering some of the uglier scars she had on her elbows from over-confidently misjudging her abilities). Sometimes Elsa would join in on the swings or slides. What Elsa had liked best, Anna knew, was to do puzzles together or to build things in the sandbox, and when it was winter time, in the snow.

As they aged, playtime changed to stretches spent sharing notes, reading or at Anna's behest, watching TV though Elsa didn't care as much for VH1 as much as she did. But for every _Top 20 Videos of the Week _Anna would make Elsa sit through (with Elsa sighing whenever something ridiculously vapid came on), she'd put herself through some book of mind-splittingly cryptic poetry that Elsa would be into. Elsa enjoyed reading her favourite chapters or quotes from novels aloud to Anna. Anna would sit, hands on her face, trying to tease Elsa and distract her whenever the words stopped sounding like English and ventured on the side of gibberish. She was not much of a reader, but she enjoyed being read to, and more than that, she loved making Elsa laugh. Elsa would giggle at all of Anna's clowning, hand over her mouth, always polite and distinguished. She was really an Arendelle, truly the offspring of her parents, as Anna always remembered the trio looking like the quintessence of control in midst of the sloppy simplicity of the rest of the town. In her younger years, she'd had thought they were royalty. Upon seeing Arendelle Manor for the first time in her life, she had asked her parents if it was a castle and if there were any princesses living inside. That was the day she did in fact meet said princess, smiling shyly but standing bravely in front of her, hand extended, telling her that it was nice to meet her.

Her face started burning remembering the idiotic ramblings uttered a few hours before.

_I can't believe I said all those things about her smile! That's it—I'm nuts. I'm certifiable. I'm an embarrassment even to embarrassments. _

"Oooh, look, she's blushing!" exclaimed one of the aunts, coming over to pinch her cheek.

"I'm really no—"

"Dinner in ten! People, set the table!" called Bulda from the kitchen.

Everyone in the room except for Kristoff and herself started hustling to the dining area, already claiming a favoured seat or fork. He shot her an exhausted grin from across the room. The twenty minutes she had been there felt like several hours of rigorous interrogation. She would gladly write a recommendation for any Bjorgman looking to work in the police service or in immigration at the airport.

She set the cocoa down on the coffee table, no longer feeling to drink any of it. No matter how much she loved chocolate-anything, she couldn't help the uneasy feeling she kept getting every now and then. The cocoa helped somewhat but not enough as she would have liked. She hadn't entirely recovered from the tumult of earlier, and remembering Elsa's smile didn't help her feel settled in the least.

"I'm really sorry about my family… again," Kristoff apologised.

Anna gave him a small reassuring grin, "It's okay! You don't need to say you're sorry every time I come over. I'm getting used to it. Though I think they'll be pretty disappointed when you get into a relationship with someone else."

"Oh, trust me, I have worries that they'll give any girlfriend I have a hard time because 'She's not Anna!'"

"Well, they really do seem to like my teeth?"

Kristoff chuckled, giving Sven a hearty ruffle. The dog barked approvingly.

"I can't wait till this place gets a little quieter, right Sven?" he said, switching between his regular voice and what Anna had called his "botched Scooby Doo impression". "_But I like when they're heeere. _I know, you have a lot of fun with the kids, but you gotta admit: it's a lot more peaceful when it's just us. _You'll miss them when they're gooone._ Ugh, shut up Sven."

Anna was sure that while she thought Kristoff could be pretty cute, having an out-loud conversation with your dog was a sure-fire way _not_ to get a girlfriend in Arendelle, though on the internet, he might be a smash hit. But the other girls here were a bit more reserved in expressing any ovarian-approval for men who perform two-way dialogues with their animals.

_Plus he listens to waaay to much lute music for anyone born in this century._

Although she was more or less certain that if the guy was girlfriend-less, it might be partially her fault. Since their first meeting (at a grocery where they nearly had a falling out over buying the last bag of carrots in the store), they were pretty much inseparable. He wasn't the type to go about making friends of his own, and in that way he reminded her of Elsa. She pondered why it was she always seemed drawn to people who preferred their solitude.

_Am I subconsciously really that desperate to annoy people…!?_

Kristoff was satisfied just driving his family's truck around delivering bags of ice to local stores, supermarkets and gas stations. It was a strange business to bring to Arendelle, but it was managing fairly well, and surprisingly people seemed to prefer buying the bags of ice with the cartoon reindeer wearing a crown logo. But outside of deliveries, he did not go to any of the typical hangouts and did not engage most anybody else other than Anna. She figured he had a big enough family, that he'd never be lonely and have no want for other company. Yet he easily accepted her presence in his life (a fate sealed after she made him give her a ride to another store when the grocer sold the last bag of carrots to someone else in the midst of their arguing). He made it clear that he appreciated her friendship in his own stuttering, roundabout way.

At school, Anna seemed to have gotten cred amongst some of the girls in her year for having a "senior boyfriend" even if he was the Reindeer-King-ice-guy. Her protests that they weren't a couple were met with rolling eyes or scoffing or "Oh come on, don't be so coy". Kristoff was frustratingly oblivious to any and all of it, and Anna chalked it up to him having to hear an earful about it whenever he got home. Their "relationship" made the romantics in their school happy to think that the loner new guy was dating the friendly girl-next-door. Anna herself would've been happy to dig into a story like that one (her romance film collection that she'd acquired over the years was pretty much testament to how much she enjoyed love stories), except her own involvement wasn't altogether pleasing.

"So, what are you going to do about Hermit the Frog?"

Anna looked around for something to throw at Kristoff but gave up when she couldn't find anything soft enough not to crack his skull open.

She sighed loudly explaining, "I'll have to figure out. Thanks for all your help so far. I'm really, really grateful. But from this point on, I think I should tackle this on my own."

"Upupup, I seem to recall that my board is probably being used as a toothpick by your friend's monster-beast. I don't think it's wise for you to go it alone back up there."

"I'm sorry again, Kristoff, I'll get the board back for you, really!"

"Hey, it's not the board I care about," he said quickly, his cheeks tingeing with pink. "I can't let you go through what you did today again. You were crying in my pick-up. That's not good. If you were dealing with this alone all this time, then you should accept some help when it comes to you. Because I find it ironically stupid that you're trying to show someone that they don't have to be alone… all on _your_ lonesome. Practice what you preach. At least let me be your transport. I should know better than getting mixed up in this shit, but I'm probably waist deep in by now. Might as well go all the way."

"Am I being a creepy stalker, Kristoff?" she asked, her mind unexpectedly racing with bad thoughts. "I mean, if I look at this from an outside perspective, is this harassment? She did say she'd call the cops."

"Uh…"

"Oh God," she muttered, realisation dawning. "What if she takes out a restraining order? I mean, I don't think I'm being too pushy but—oh no, oh no, sneaking into her place could count as going too far, couldn't it? I mean, that's crossing the line. What did I do, what did I do—I screwed up majorly. You could've gotten arrested, Kristoff!"

"Wait, why am I the only one going to jail in this story?"

Anna was absolutely sure now that her idea, while it seemed reasonably clever at the time, was positively dumb. But she tried to remember what Kristoff had told her. It was helping her keep the faith, what little of it she was clinging to right now. Elsa made a move.

_Well, anybody would try to get trespassers off their property… _

Still, it was the nearest they had been to one another in years. It was the most they ever spoke to each other in ages. Anna had seen her face to face, finally. In the year Elsa had stopped coming to school, the closest Anna could get to Elsa was with the bedroom door in the way. It wasn't idyllic, but she would sit outside talking to Elsa, getting perhaps a word or two as a response, but it was never engaging, never encouraging. Anna persisted anyway. She'd show up on the weekends for a couple hours, sit outside Elsa's bedroom door with her homework or a magazine or with just a thousand words sloshing about her head, spilling right out of her mouth. She had met Marshmallow that way, just unexpectedly seeing the pup roaming the hallways, excited to see someone else other than his owners. There was an instance where the then-little dog even relieved itself right outside the bedroom ("Elsa, Marshmallow's peeing and it's going into your room, you better come out!"), but there was nothing from the other side and Gerda came hurriedly from somewhere with a bucket and mop to clean it up. She had told Anna that it was best she leave while she cleaned up the mess.

Mr. and Mrs. Arendelle didn't forbid these visits. Mrs. Arendelle appeared thankful that Anna would make the effort. She'd come by with a piece of cake or a plate of biscuits to give to Anna during her stay. Mayor Arendelle didn't seem pleased any time Anna saw him, but he would always pass by whenever Anna came around. He'd greet Anna politely, look at the door and then turn away, continuing with his business. She didn't give up, because even though there was no way of knowing, she somehow could tell that Elsa was right there, leaning against the door listening. Anna thought she just had to keep going. If she kept knocking, Elsa would answer. But with the death of Elsa's parents in the following year, Anna was disallowed from even getting past the front door of Arendelle Manor. Kai and Gerda were given the instruction that nobody was welcome, including Anna. All the doors remained steadfastly shut.

"_We're really very sorry," Kai said sadly to her at the gates. "Miss Elsa says she no longer wants anybody to visit her. She wishes to be alone. She won't be convinced otherwise. Please have patience with her, dear."_

So having Elsa come outside, having her even talk to her with more than just a handful of words was really quite an accomplishment.

"You think that she wants things to change, or am I overthinking everything?" Anna asked, taking up her cocoa again. It had gotten cold now.

"How would I know? I don't know her. And I'm patching this story together, and some of it isn't making that much sense to me as yet. What do you think she wants?"

Anna contemplated until she finally said, "I think Elsa wants to see me and talk to me. If she didn't, we'd have just found the police waiting to escort us out of Arendelle Manor, and you probably would've gone to jail. But she didn't call them. She came outside. And she talked to me. So that has to mean something, right? We used to be best friends and I think we can be that way again, maybe, with a lot of work. We might have to start over, but I think that's okay."

"Remind me just so I don't change my mind about helping you: why are you so adamant about this? Aren't there other girls you can be friends with?"

"There's nobody like Elsa," Anna said firmly.

Kristoff put up both his hands defensively. But that's how it was. Elsa stood far and apart from any other girl she had ever known. She couldn't give up on someone like her. She was worth it, even if Elsa herself didn't want to believe it. Anna would just have to prove it to her. She wasn't sure how yet, but she'd find a way. She had to.

From the dining room came Bulda's voice snapping Anna out of her thoughts, "You lovebirds, it's time for dinner!"

* * *

"Miss Elsa?" came Gerda's voice from outside her door. "Your dinner is ready."

"Please leave some in the fridge for me, Gerda. I'm not hungry right now," Elsa responded, staring at the equations in front of her.

She had about two more pages of working to go and her tutor was due to visit her in the morning. She wasn't going to let this stump her, though she had been struggling all evening to focus. The question she was stuck on looked back at her mockingly. She gripped her pencil tighter. She was tempted to tear the paper up and start all over again from the very first problem.

"Very well, dear," Gerda replied, and Elsa heard her footsteps leave.

She rubbed her temple and continued giving the question sheet what could almost be called a death glare, but the cogs refused to turn. She could've been staring at a blank sheet of paper for all she knew. Nothing was registering.

_Maybe I need to lie down, clear my head._

She breathed deeply and dropped the pencil on the desk in defeat (though with any more force, nobody would have been wrong saying she'd slammed it). She sought her bed after turning the lights off. The bed was downy soft and the sheets were cool since her room was in the draughtiest part of the entire manor. Kai had asked her several times if she wanted to move into another bedroom, but Elsa insisted that she remain right there. The cold air wasn't an issue, at least not on most days. She liked the chill, and on colder days like this one, she was glad to have at least an excuse to drown herself in her comforter. She pulled the entire thing over her head and buried her face into a pillow.

_Anna._

Even if she shut her door, shut her eyes and tried to shut her mind off, there just seemed to be the ever-constant misery of her memories.

_Anna._

Why did she come back? Why did she come _now_? Elsa was expecting her on Christmas Eve. She could handle Christmas Eve from the attic window. A splash of red under a woolly flapped ski hat, a brightly coloured jacket or coat, a barely distinguishable face in the distance—these were things she could deal with. She couldn't handle the adorably freckly face, the rosy cheeks or the brilliant blue eyes right in front of her. She couldn't accept that the gawky girl she last saw was now a pretty seventeen year old. Of course she had seen over time that Anna was changing. During the year when she'd come to drop off Elsa's birthday card, she'd wear much less clothing and Elsa could tell that the girl was growing. But to see the signs of maturity so closely was surprising. She had always been a bit taller than Anna too, but now Elsa realised she needed to dip her head lower to get a good look at her. Elsa didn't realise until then how much she herself had grown. After all, on that night, she was more or less able to look Anna right in the eye when… She shook her head.

_Forget about it. Don't remember it. Forget it._

Her thoughts instead fell unto something unpleasant: the boy. Kristoff was his name. He was handsome in a roughly put together way. He had nice hair and very kind brown eyes.

_And he was polite enough to offer his hand, which you refused…_

It didn't make her feel proud of herself to be so petty as to disregard his handshake, but she had far too many things happening all at once to even consider paying him a minute of attention more than she already did.

But the way he spoke to Anna, looked at her—they had to be close. Perhaps he was her boyfriend.

_She must have a boyfriend by now. She hasn't holed herself up like you have. _

After all, she was Anna. Who wouldn't fall for her? Who could even dream to resist marching in a beat other than Anna's? Anna with the cute way she'd crinkle her nose when she was amused, Anna who now had the loveliest face she had ever seen in her life. Of course she would have someone. Of course it'd be a boyfriend.

_She's not like YOU._

Seeing Anna made her feel something bad, and fear something even worse. She thought she did her best over the years to stop it, and for a while, she thought it was working. How futile it had been then if nearly four years of wilful determination were effortlessly undone in a few minutes.

_Anna, Anna, Anna._

Elsa threw the covers from over her head and sat up. This wasn't helping at all. Maybe dinner with Gerda and Kai would be the distraction she needed. She left her room and headed down the stairs to where she knew the couple would be: the kitchen.

If Elsa chose to skip dinner, the couple would eat together at the little round table in the kitchen instead of in the dining hall. Despite expressly stating that it wasn't an issue, it appeared years of serving made it difficult for Gerda and Kai to break certain rituals or habits. Without their "little miss" with them, they deemed it wholly improper to eat there. As much as Elsa wanted to be normal and just sit and have dinner like a normal person, being in the dining room contributed to several evenings of poor appetite. As such, she had long worked out a trick to avoid having to eat there. If she was on time for dinner, the hall would be suitably prepared for her. But if she told Gerda she was skipping dinner, the old woman would eat with her husband around the little round kitchen table and the dining room would be left alone. And if Elsa happened to come into the kitchen at any point, a stool would be pulled for her, a plate would be brought out, and the three would share dinner there instead. She favoured that a lot more than having to eat at an overwhelmingly empty table, but she knew how fussy Gerda could be about Elsa doing the "proper" thing. After all, the simplest "proper" thing for the head of the Arendelle household to do would be to sit at the head of the table for dinner.

Sure enough, she found them tucking in when she arrived in the kitchen. Marshmallow, also having his dinner, stopped eating to approach Elsa, woofing gratefully that she had joined them. Elsa stroked the top of his head gently. Satisfied with the attention, he went back to his corner. The scent of the food nourished her. Gerda had made a beef stew and fresh bread. Wordlessly, Kai got up and brought out a stool and set it by the table while Gerda got out a bowl from the cupboards and went to the pot on the stove to fill it up. Elsa thanked Kai for the seat and Gerda for the stew. The three ate together with Marshmallow in the warmest part of the kitchen, licking his bowl clean.

* * *

From the dull yellowy glow of her bedside lamp, Elsa was able to make out the hands on her alarm clock. One pointed at twelve, the other somewhere between forty and forty-three—she couldn't be bothered to pinpoint exactly where. Outside her window was total darkness. She rested against her pillow, taking steadying breaths as she pulled her hand out from under the comforter. In the low light, she could just see the sticky wetness on her fingers.

_Disgusting._


	5. Winter Chapter 5: Lessons

"Miss Arendelle?"

Elsa blinked. Her tutor looked at her expectantly.

"Oh, my apologies," she replied, shaking her head and shuffling her papers around only to realise that the very first on the pile was the one she needed. "Um, here it is. I had some trouble with one of the equations last night. I think you may need to explain the formula to me again."

His expression was almost nervous. His cleared his throat to mask his discomfort, but his eyes always gave him away to Elsa. He had been tutoring her for months now, but he was neither quite used to being in Arendelle Manor nor being around Elsa. She knew the people of her town very well—their natural instinct was to search out familiarity, and both she and her home were far from being things to which they were accustomed. The townsfolk were the kind who enjoyed small talk and relaxed environments. A class would be taught by someone who was either your father's poker buddy or your cousin's wife's god-sister. That closeness between teacher and student was something Elsa did not have with any of her tutors. They all had to go through the "strictly business" model with her, and some were able to deal with it and get the job done. Others found it too taxing to handle hours of trying to get through to a girl whose only communication would be the answer to the question on page sixty-eight.

This particular tutor was a small, shifty older man with a comically bushy moustache and an even more ridiculous toupee. He had since retired from the high school though often gave supplementary classes (for a hefty fee) on the weekends. During the week, he'd work with Elsa. She did not particularly care for this one—he was a bit too much sometimes—but he was the best at what he did and Elsa couldn't replace him, especially as she was already so particular about who was hired. Most of her educators consisted of retirees or teachers in their forties; she specifically requested that none of the applicants be any younger. Older people may have been likely to ask more questions (questions, while irksome, could be ignored or left unanswered), but younger people made her painfully aware of the possibilities of her life. She didn't want to think about things like that, of what she might be missing. She was content studying, and in a couple months' time, she'd be able to sit her tests, get a diploma and be done with it. She'd be eighteen soon and that would make her a dutiful child and responsible adult who finished her high school education as per her parents' wishes.

Her tutors all agreed that Elsa had the ability to do extremely well, enough for a scholarship to a university (though with the inheritance her parents had left her, Elsa had little need for extra financial aid). She'd be easily accepted otherwise to very good schools with her aptitude and grades. Most of the teenagers of Arendelle were unlikely to go further; they were happy to take over or be employed under some family-run business or local franchise, start their own homes, work with or as shippers and traders. Everyone was content remaining right where they were. Elsa had thought about actually applying for a university at some point. Leaving would mean she could get away from a place that was, in more than one way, an inescapable part of her identity.

_Would that be "running from myself", then?_

"You're as distracted as a three-legged mongoose in a chicken's coop," her tutor said, interrupting her thoughts again, and Elsa felt her chest tighten with unwanted anticipation for the question she knew was coming next. "Is there something _wrong_? Would you… like to discuss it?"

Elsa looked down at the sheets on which she did her homework. She collected the papers, arranged them neatly and handed them to the tutor.

"I wouldn't," she replied. "Thank you."

He accepted them, his face ruddy with discomfiture. He began rifling through the sheets.

"Well then let me take a look at your problem question."

"That won't be necessary. I think our time here is up, Mr. Weselton."

"Are you sure? We still have thirty minutes left!"

"I'm done for today," Elsa said with a tone of finality.

He nodded far too vigorously and pushed the glasses he wore further up his nose bridge. Elsa disliked being so severe with people, but she knew if she didn't insist, he'd continue asking questions and that was the last thing she wanted.

"I didn't—I mean I understand your wishes, Miss Arendelle."

"It's fine," Elsa reassured him. "I apologise for being curt. I have a bit of a headache. You'll be compensated for the entire session, so please see Gerda before you leave."

"Comprehensible, absolutely comprehensible! So, I'll just correct these and bring them back to you tomorrow. We'll continue with this lesson, not a problem!" he fretted, gathering his things and putting them into his briefcase. "Good day to you, Miss Arendelle."

"Good day, Mr. Weselton."

He tipped his head politely, and Elsa had to conceal the smile that threatened to cross her face when his hairpiece shifted out of place. He saw himself out of the study, giving her a final flourishing toodle-loo before exiting. Elsa leaned back in her chair, exhausted, covering her eyes with a hand.

_Get it together. There's only one more week of this and then you'll be off for the holidays._

She almost chuckled at herself—"holidays". For someone who stayed at home as a near-permanent fixture, she found it amusing that she still gave herself breaks for the winter. But she knew her tutors would be busy with Christmas festivities. The town loved the season more than any other time. Elsa did as well, when the gates of her home were open, and people came to ice-skate on the lake. There was a rink in town, but there were always those who preferred the aesthetic of the open air surrounded by woods, and away from what little hubbub the town had to offer. Since she had shut them out from entering the premises during Christmastime, she knew she had gotten an unsavoury reputation amongst the younger residents especially. She had heard a group of boys arguing once about there being a "selfish snow witch" living in the manor (Elsa had no doubt they had appropriated the term from some older siblings, and in their case, "witch" was probably spelt with a "b"). Arendelle Manor _had_ been a hotspot for adolescent dates during the wintertime. She probably ruined quite a lot of teenagers' tentative hand-holding or snogs off in the woods. She had been walking Marshmallow and the children had not seen her, but the minute they did they scampered off, most likely terrified that she was going to turn them all into snowmen.

_Being cold IS your speciality._

She had to admit that she missed it, not only the company, but skating as well. She hadn't been to the lake in ages. Not since Anna had fell through the ice that night. She couldn't go near it after that.

_She could've frozen to death._

She rubbed her eyes, a real headache threatening to begin.

_Because of YOU._

Why did Anna have to come back? Elsa had managed to go a stretch without berating every aspect of her existence. She had a routine, a way to face the day to day without event. The status quo was acceptable. Now Anna showed up with her willingness to make things better. Elsa believed herself to be completely unworthy of having someone like that in her life in the first place. Anna was all motion, and Elsa was satisfied with stasis. She was the kind not to rock the boat but Anna was the one who'd jump out of it without a life-vest on. For Elsa was fine with keeping things safe; Anna on the other hand was always in the business of saving.

_She hasn't given up._

Elsa went to the study's window and pulled the thick curtain back to peer outside. Mr. Weselton was on the ground below, hurrying out. Kai had Marshmallow on a leash, and from what she could hear through the glass, the dog was barking rather aggressively. Kai never liked Mr. Weselton. Elsa had suspected some bad blood remained between them; she had heard from Gerda that they were once classmates as boys and had been antagonistic to one another back then. Elsa didn't see, but she was sure Kai was wearing a smug grin on his face as Weselton nearly slipped on some ice on his way out the gates. His hairpiece fell off entirely, and he scooped it off the ground, hustling to get to this car. It was the kind of sight that made her wish Anna was around so they could share a good laugh about it.

_Why hasn't she given up on me?_

The question bothered her more than anything else. Anna was the dearest person she had ever met. Anna's kindness was apparent in everything she ever said or did, with every card Elsa had ever received, for all the months that Anna had spent sitting outside her door talking to her. She knew that Anna was pure light. If God could be bothered with the craftsmanship of a single soul, he personally approved the blueprint of hers. Her inexhaustible goodness reminded Elsa that even someone as wretched as herself could still be loved by someone like Anna. She already was—wholly, willingly—if yesterday had proven anything to her. After all, she did show up and try to talk to Elsa, and still attempted a reconnection despite the bitter reception. Elsa was gifted with something she disrespected, and she felt a strong shame with herself for that. But what else could she do?

_She's trying to do the right thing. And I'm being an ungrateful fool._

The distance had to be kept. Elsa knew she didn't deserve a selfless friendship like that. Not only did she reject it, but she had corrupted the very essence of the thing, muddied it with her own impure emotions which (and if last night were a testament to anything) still existed strongly.

_Don't feel, don't feel, don't feel._

She had thoughts, fancies, and even dreams about some of the things she had read in books over the years. They were the kinds of things she'd open her eyes to in the morning and feel as though she'd been running in her sleep—her heart would've been beating that much. They were vivid daydreams during less-than-inspired essay-writing afternoons. There were days she would press her forehead against the cool glass of the attic window, trying to ignore the heat coming off her skin. There were nights where she'd be at her desk, crossing her legs to contain the feeling between them.

_How could she think that I hate her, when… _

When Elsa was sure that there was no other girl on the planet she had loved as half as much.

"What do you know about love?" she whispered to herself, pulling the curtain back into place and going back to her work station.

Her notebooks, folders and stationery were unusually scattered across the oak desk. No doubt Mr. Weselton noticed the mess. She generally had her belongings laid out before tutors like they were on perpetual display. Her transparency could disappoint her sometimes. She wasn't like Anna, whose heart thumped in a happy beat on her sleeve. Elsa considered her occasional obviousness as less than charming; it never revealed positives about her personality, just all her shortcomings. She started packing the stationery away: mechanical pencils and ink pens into the pencil case, loose sheets of paper back into their respective folders, the text books stacked from largest to smallest from the bottom up.

_Don't think. Just do._

There it was—order, neatness. Organisation helped her make sense of everything. Things had their own place. Sequential design. Sensible distribution.

The books in the study looked at her and she recalled her own volumes that were piling up in the attic, unshelved, but making their own neat little stacks in the corners closest to the window.

"_Everything has its right place, Elsa," he father said to her, taking the book out of her hands and slipping it into the empty slot on the shelf. "The books go?"_

"_Back on the shelves!" a young Elsa answered eagerly._

"_Your dolls go?" he asked, giving her a knowing wink._

_Elsa gave him a small smile. _

"_In my toy chest."_

"_And not?"_

"_On the floor."_

"_Don't give Gerda any more work than she already has, okay?" _

_He stepped down from the ladder and rested a hand gently on her head._

"_It's a lot easier to just leave things as they are. But is that 'right'? The easy way to do something can at times be the wrong way to do it. And the wrong thing is sometimes the easiest thing to do, isn't it? We're Arendelles, and we should try to do the right or proper thing all the time. Even if it's boring or difficult, like making sure our rooms are tidy or doing well on tests or helping someone, even if it puts us out of the way."_

_Elsa considered what he had said and then brightened._

"_It's easy to do the right thing, papa. Look."_

_She went to the sofa where she left an ancient copy of Struwwelpeter. Her father watched as she returned with the book, pushed the step ladder down a few shelves and began climbing. With some effort, she managed to put the book back._

"_That wasn't hard," she said triumphantly, climbing down._

_He laughed, "Maybe it's simpler than I thought. But that one should be kept under 'H' for Hoffman."_

"_I know papa, but I think it would be better here."_

"_And why is that?"_

"_If you put it on this shelf, then it's with all my other picture books."_

"_Even if it's a picture book, it belongs in the H section."_

_He walked over to the shelf Elsa had spent the last week organising, and started removing the books, looking down their spines to get the authors' names._

"_Remember, Elsa. Everything has a place where it's supposed to be. Now let's get all those books of yours sorted."_

Elsa gathered her things and left the study. She had another tutor visit scheduled for the afternoon. Normally she would wait in the study until they arrived, but she felt the need to get out. Perhaps she could skip this afternoon's session as well (even though it would mean more work tomorrow). She deposited the things in her bedroom and left to find Gerda, who was in the kitchen peeling potatoes.

"Gerda, did Mr. Weselton find you?" she asked.

Gerda looked up from the sink and gave Elsa a cheery smile while continuing to peel.

"He did," she answered. "And he made sure, as usual, to count every single bill before he walked out of the house, the old miser. As though this household would ever cheat him! When you get to our age, dear, you'd think you'd relax a little."

"Gerda, is it all right if I stay here for a bit?" Elsa asked. "I-I won't trouble you."

_You've known this woman your whole life. Relax._

"It's no trouble, dear. I'm glad for the company."

Elsa stood closer to Gerda, watching her handiwork. There were times she felt like this and would just want to be near her or Kai while they did some task or the other. They thankfully never made a big deal about it even though she was sure she was disturbing or distracting them, in spite of whatever they had said to dissuade her otherwise.

"May I help?" asked Elsa, eyes following the long peel of brown skin unravelling smoothly from the creamy white spud.

Gerda opened her mouth to object, but then closed it, pointing her chin to the small bucket of potatoes on the floor.

"Those need washing, Miss Elsa. Would you be a dear?"

Elsa nodded, deeply appreciative for not being dismissed as too dainty to wash dirt off potatoes. Normally Gerda would fuss about Elsa doing anything close to menial, but on occasions like these, Elsa was sure the old woman knew when relenting was an act of benevolence. She stationed herself on the other side of the double sink, feeling the warmth radiating off the other woman.

She remembered what Gerda had instructed the last time she got to wash vegetables: fill a basin with water, wash the dirt off, empty the water when it's too muddied and then fill it up again with clean water. ("Don't waste the running water!"). She got a bowl that Gerda had out for that purpose and filled it up. She raised the small bucket up to the counter so she'd have easier access. Now she had to get into the rhythm of washing. She took one of the potatoes and submerged it. The water was tepid against her fingers and the grains of dirt scraped lightly against her skin. The only sounds in the kitchen were the sloshing of the water in the basin and the crunch of a knife against potatoes.

"We'll have this and chicken for lunch today," Gerda began. "Would that be all right?"

"You know I'm fine with anything you cook."

"Some days aren't 'chicken and baked potatoes' days. It's always good to make sure!"

Elsa laughed, replying, "Maybe today really isn't a chicken and baked potatoes day. But we've already made the decision, so I suppose there's no turning back."

"Oh no, dear," she responded, shaking her head, the soft fat of her cheeks jiggling. "You can always change your mind, and there's nothing wrong with that. There's always something else to cook up."

They worked together in silence after that until Elsa had finished washing every potato from the bucket. She handed the now-clean potatoes to Gerda.

"You make it look so easy," Elsa said, watching as Gerda seamlessly slid the blade against the skin.

"It's not that special. With enough practice, it becomes a second nature," Gerda clarified.

"I like that. How it works. The pattern of a singular motion," Elsa struggled to explain, very aware that she was going to sound ridiculous. But in that moment, she desperately wanted to share this sentiment lodged in her chest. "There's a set method, a structure to what you do to get the desired result. You keep at it and it works, all the time. I-I like how foolproof the technique can be once you master it. It's complete control."

Gerda's countenance gave away her confusion, and Elsa instantly felt mortified. But the older woman's expression soon softened and she held up a half-peeled potato.

"Look at this."

From what Elsa could see, parts of it were blackened on the inside.

"Even if I know how to peel one of these without looking, there's no controlling this. You get ones like these, and then what good is my peeling know-how?" said Gerda, pitting the rotted piece out. "You just have to change up what you're doing. I don't know about you Miss Elsa, but peeling potatoes would be dull if I got good ones all the time!"

Elsa conceded that it would have been.

"Now come on, get a knife from the drawer and start peeling."


End file.
